Bulletholes and Broken Hearts
by Raven's Wing
Summary: Sometimes it is better just not to know, sometimes it is best to just let go, sometimes that just isn't enough. PG13 for character deaths, mild swearing.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: This work is original and the ideas are mine. Most of the characters are from the movie "Newsies" and belong to the Disney Company. I intend no infringement on their rights. What is Disney's is Disney's, what is mine is mine. This disclaimer stands true for all chapters, already posted or to be posted, in this story.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
I knew it wasn't going to work out. Sarah and me, that is. I always had more feeling towards her than she did towards me. I've known that since the day on the rooftop when I asked if she'd miss me. Never answered my question, just laughed. Maybe at that pint the laugh might have meant something different, but it doesn't now. She didn't want to hurt my feelings. Fine job she did at that. I've known she didn't like me that same when I kissed her the second time. It was after the strike. When I kissed her it was like she was there but she wasn't. Her body was there but her heart wasn't. But I ignored it; I'm not sure when it all fell apart.. Maybe it was that instant on the roof, or that second kiss. Maybe it was before that or in between. Maybe it happened after the strike when the high emotions ran low and the excitement was gone. Everyday life can drag any relationship down to what it really is.  
  
Everyone had us marked for marriage, but inside I knew it would never happen. The dark foreboding was too completely ignore, but it was aching inside of me every time I saw her. Blind, that is what I was, no so much blind as just not wanting to see.  
  
Her pops would never let us get married without me being more than a nothing. When I won that ticket I thought it would solve all my problems. Who would have thought a one way ticket won in a late night poker match could have given me so much hope? It got me enough money to get back too. When I told Sarah I was going to make a place for us, she smiled. Well, her mouth smiled, but her eyes frowned. Of course I ignored it I kissed her instead, so I wouldn't have to look in her eyes. That was our last kiss, nothing special or wildly passionate, but it was our last.  
  
Who knew it would take so long for me to get back? One month turned into two, two to six, six to a year, and one-year morphed into two. Those two years were spent trying to get ready. Really getting ready. I got us a little place with a real bed and a stove. I got a job all lined-up for me when I got back. Two years I had waited, not even looking at another woman. Two years I wrote every week, sometimes twice, I prayed every night, dreamed every second, wished on every star.  
  
No one was waiting for me at the station, I wasn't too discouraged, and perhaps they hadn't gotten my letters. Walking with my bag at my side, I went towards the lodging house first. It would be great to see all of those guys, talk and joke with them like we had used to after our paper route. I could catch up on all the news with Kloppman until they got back. My daydreams built like air turrets of castles in the sky, those turrets came crashing down when I got to the lodging house. Or at least where he lodging house was supposed to be.  
  
The window was boarded over, and the old sign was gone from above the door. I stood in shock, this entire piece of my youth ripped away from me. Who knows how long I just stood there, staring at the boarded door reliving all the memories of my time spent there. I could still hear Kloppman yelling at me, shaking me, shoving me, how he always acting more gruff and mean towards us than he really felt. I remember all the times I had dreamed of Santa Fe in that building. It was where I had been labeled Cowboy.  
  
"It closed last mont'," Someone behind me startled me out of my thoughts. A scruffy looking woman addressed me. "Da ol' man died an' no body wanted it," she took a long drag on a cigarette. "But if nobody wants yous, I'll take ya," she winked lewdly. I had forgotten about the coarseness of some of these women.  
  
"Where are all the newsies now?" I asked, brushing off her implied comment.  
  
"Wheahevah de can find a place ta sleep," the woman stepped closer to me and I could smell the cheap liquor and cigarettes on her clothes. "If yous don' have a place tanight, I gots a bed we could share," she licked her lips seductively and I felt sorry for her. Up close I knew she couldn't be any more than sixteen, already selling her body on the streets because there wasn't any other option but to starve. Digging into my pocket I pulled out a bill and handed it to her, and she looked at me expectantly.  
  
"Go buy something to eat," I told her and walked away. I knew that she probably would use the money to buy more cigarettes or booze, but at least I had tried. My hopes were so low right then I thought that I could at least raise someone else's.  
  
I treaded those busy cobblestone streets, the ones I knew like the back of my hand. My mind was still reeling at the discovery that the home of most of my childhood and youth was no longer there. The man that I could have claimed as the closest thing I had ever had to a father was dead. My stomach was growling and I needed eat. I could only think of one place that was cheap, but satisfactory, Tibby's.  
  
"Buy a pape mistah?" I heard those words behind me. How many times had I said those words to a stranger and been completely ignored. Turning, I hoped to see one of my friends, but it wasn't. It was a young boy I had never seen before.  
  
"Sure," I fished out some change and gave him a quarter. The boy practically glowed and I knew the feeling. The rarity of extra money was still fresh in my mind, but now I had money in my pocket. Not just some loose change I had managed to scrounge up, or some bills I had stolen or won real money. Taking the paper, I fanned through it. Without knowing it I was scanning the headlines. Would I ever rid myself of that habit? I guess I was still a newsy at heart.  
  
I reached Tibby's at least it was still there, going inside I was breathed in the familiarity of the place. I could see myself sitting in so many different booths, I saw my man Denton interviewing Davie and me. I saw the place where I had sat and seen my picture in the paper.  
  
"Can I help ya mistah?" I heard a familiar voice, snapping to reality I looked in the direction of the voice.  
  
"Blink?" I gasped in surprise. Blink hadn't changed much besides the fact he had grown. The eye-patch was still in place, and so was the shaggy blonde hair, but he wasn't a newsy anymore. He was a bus boy.  
  
"Cowboy?" His good eye blinked in shock. In an instant we were hugging, the sight of a familiar face was more than welcome in this city.  
  
"Look at you," I said, stepping back. "A real job," I teased.  
  
"Well look at yous," he returned. "You looks like one o' doe's uptown boys," I smiled at the familiar accent.  
  
"How are all the boys? Do you know?" I asked, eager to hear it all. "Can ya come eat lunch with me, I'll pay," I offered.  
  
"I'se just got on me lunch break, so why's not?" he shrugged and we sat. After we were sitting I started with the questions.  
  
"How long have you been worked at Tibby's?" I asked.  
  
"Pro'ly stahted 'round da time Crutchy died," he speculated, but his words hit me hard.  
  
"Before Crutchy what?" I prayed I had heard wrong.  
  
"Died," Blink frowned. "Didn' ya know?"  
  
"When?" I questioned, gripping the side of the table so hard my knuckles turned white.  
  
"'Bout nine mont's ago," Blink tilted his head to one side. "Didn't Davie write ya?"  
  
"I never got any letters," I swallowed hard, the world was blacking out around me. Crutchy. gone? It couldn't be. "How?"  
  
"'E had heart problems 'e nevah told nobody 'bout till it was time ta go," Blink shrugged. "It all happened fast."  
  
"What about the others?" I changed the subject; I didn't want to think about Crutchy being gone. "How's Mush, and Race? What about Specs and Dutchy?"  
  
"Mush ain't a newsy no more, needers Race. Mush's a boxah now an' Race bets on 'im," Blink smiled. "Some t'ings nevah change." I nodded in agreement. "Specs got him some money an' left like yous, nobody knows wheah. Dutchy gots some money too, he went ta school for teachah's and now he teaches kids."  
  
"Is anybody still a newsy?" I was sadly disappointed to find all this change at my arrival.  
  
"Snipeshootah still is, he's wit' Spot now. Boots is wit' Spot too," Blink paused as he ordered his food. "I don't know much 'bout da rest o' da boys."  
  
"What did you hear about Kloppman?"  
  
"Dat 'e died, da man was ol'," Blink took a long drink of water. "What 'bout yous? Yous been gone so long dat you don' even sound New Yawk no more," Blink teased. It was true though, I had lost that accent somewhere along the road.  
  
"I'se been getting' t'ings ready foah me an' Sarah," I took a drink from my glass and saw a shadow fall over Blink's face. Maybe there was something else that I never heard about, but at this point I didn't want to know.  
  
"Ah yous headin' towards dat place next?" Asked Blink casually.  
  
"Yeah," I knew he was hiding something, but I didn't want to know. No more changes, I had no desire to know what I already suspected. No one had written me for two years no matter how many times I wrote, but I didn't know for sure, and I didn't want to ask.  
  
Blink and I talked until he had to go back to work, then I left the store, and my insides were aching. The skies had clouded over when I had been in Tibby's, oddly foreboding. Very little was the same since I had left. Again and again I listed the dozens of things that had changed; it would have been easier to list the things that hadn't changed. I thought that the day couldn't get any worse, but I was wrong.  
  
Knocking on the apartment door I had visited so often, I waited. Slowly, the door cracked open slightly. An old looking woman peeked out eyeing me suspiciously.  
  
"Is Davie around?" I asked, hoping I had gotten the right place. The pair of eyes softened and the door opened further. To my surprise the old looking woman was Davie's mom, I mentally added her to the list of things that had changed since I had left.  
  
"Jack Kelly?" she breathed in surprise. I nodded, not knowing what else to say, and before I knew it she was hugging me. "We thought you were dead!" She cried.  
  
"I sent you letters every week," I pulled back from the weeping woman slightly. "Didn't you get them?" The woman looked terribly sad as she shook her head.  
  
"We never got anything," she wiped her face and smiled slightly. "My how you have grown," She held my hand in hers and led me into the apartment. Besides looking older, the sparsely furnished home hadn't changed.  
  
"Where's Sarah?" I asked, looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of the gray-eyed girl I still held in my heart.  
  
"Oh Jack," The woman started. "Sarah is -" She was cut off.  
  
"Cowboy?" I heard a younger voice cry out. Turned I was nearly tackled off my feet by a boy that had grown leaps and bounds since I had last seen him.  
  
"Hey Les," I laughed, it was good to be here again. "How are you?"  
  
"I'se fine," he still had his New York accent. I'm glad that hadn't changed. "Why're ya heah?" he asked.  
  
"I'm here to talk to your sister," I told him plainly and out of the corner of my eye I saw the door open.  
  
"Yous can't talk ta Sarah," Les frowned but he couldn't finish his thought.  
  
"Jack?" I was starting to almost get annoyed with that question. Turning I saw my good friend, the walking mouth, Davie. Stepping closer to me, almost to make sure I was who I was. Grinning, he spat in his hand and held it out to me. Spitting in my palm, I clasped hands with him and shook it vigorously which turned quickly into a tight hug.  
  
"How are you Davie?" I asked, pulling back. I could have been wrong, but I thought I saw tears shining in the boy's eyes.  
  
"I'm fine, wow, where have you been?" he asked.  
  
"Santa Fe," I smiled as the words came to my lips. This is the welcome I had wanted, only one thing was missing... Sarah.  
  
"For two years? Why didn't you try and contact us?"  
  
"I wrote every week," I repeated the fact that I had told his mother.  
  
"We never got any letters," Davie frowned.  
  
"Yeah, so your mom said," I was getting impatient, I wanted to see Sarah. I wanted to see for myself that nothing had changed around here, I wanted to hold her, and I wanted to claim her for my own forever. "Where's Sarah?" I asked again.  
  
"Oh," Davie's face fell. "Jack, I don't know how to tell you this, but..." Davie drifted off.  
  
"But what?" My heart was racing, did something happen to her? Was she all right?  
  
"Sarah's married now Jack," Davie's mom intervened on his behalf. "The ceremony was last week," she laid a gentle hand on my arm. "I'm sorry."  
  
Married. With that one word my entire world fell from beneath my feet. Every last hope I had clung to vanish and every last brick from those airy dream castles crumbled to dust. Nothing was left now nothing was the same. Sarah married? How could it be, how could they have never gotten the letters I had written? I didn't have room for sorrow, I was angry. No I was more than angry, I was furious. All of the anger that I learned to hone for survival was now being aimed towards the one thing that had kept me alive for the past three years. The black anger fell over me like a wet blanket and I clenched my fists.  
  
"Where is she now?" I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could hear it trembling.  
  
"She lives above the baker's shop in the square. Do you want to go see her?" Davie asked.  
  
"No," I lied. "I should go now.  
  
"No, stay Jack, there's a lot we need to talk about," Davie grabbed my jacket sleeve. Smoothly I brushed him off.  
  
"We'll talk later," I felt that anger scorching so deeply inside me it was burning away my sadness, my logic, my reason.  
  
Bag in hand, I stormed out of the apartment. No one tried to follow me. They didn't want to see what I was planning. Before I had even gotten to the street, I dropped my bag and began to rummage through it. Finding what I wanted, I put the shiny instrument inside of my coat and left the rest in the hall.  
  
Rain was starting to fall as I crossed the street. Three more blocks to her home with her husband. No doubt he was working still, good, I didn't want him there. By the time I got to the bakers, the rain was pouring, and I was soaked. My metal friend inside of my coat was dry though.  
  
Ascending the stairs to Sarah's living quarters, I pounded on the door above the thunder. No one answered at first, then I pounded again.  
  
"Who's there?" I heard her voice, damn it was good to hear that voice again, and too bad it wouldn't last.  
  
"Jack Kelly," I called back and I heard the pause then the frantic attempt to unlock the door and open it.  
  
"Jack!" She exclaimed when she saw me, I didn't wait to be invited in, and I brushed past her. "We - we thought you were dead," she was shaking.  
  
"I'm not dead yet," I growled. "What did you do with the letters?" I asked coldly.  
  
"What letters?" her voice caught in her throat and she coughed. "What letters?" she repeated, more calm.  
  
"The ones I sent every week," I smiled slightly; she had always been a terrible liar.  
  
"I don't know what you are talking about, Jack?" She brushed her hands nervously across the apron she was wearing.  
  
"I loved you Sarah, but you never loved me did you?" I asked reaching my hand under my coat for the tool.  
  
"Jack, I really don't think this is the time for this."  
  
"Just answer me Sarah, why didn't you respond to my letters? Why did you go off and marry some other guy?" I fumed, but I wouldn't look at her eyes, I couldn't and do what I was about to do.  
  
"I didn't get any," her whole body was shaking now.  
  
"I know you're lying," After noticing her body shaking, I noticed that I was trembling as well. "What did you do with them?"  
  
"I burned them," She finally gave in, I noted with a little relief.  
  
"Did you read them?" I asked.  
  
"Some of them," she admitted, dropping her head. "Oh Jack I didn't want to go to Santa Fe. I never wanted to, that was your dream, not mine!" She exclaimed suddenly.  
  
"Did you ever love me?" I asked again, not caring about the other words.  
  
"I liked you a lot Jack, I still do," She answered slowly.  
  
"You didn't," I continued. "You just played along with it because you didn't know what would happen if you didn't. Isn't that right?" I pulled out the shiny implement and watched her eyes grow wide.  
  
"What are you doing?" She laughed slightly. "Why do you have a gun?" She edged towards the door.  
  
"I'm sorry you never loved me, Sarah. I promise this won't hurt too long," I smiled slightly, careful not to look into her eyes. Then I fired. The gun went off and I saw the crimson color of her blood spray out from the mortal chest wound I delivered. For a moment she stood still, standing in shock, then as I shot her a second time she crumpled. A pool of her blood staining the floor. It was only then that I looked at her eyes, they were already glazing over. She hated me, she always had.  
  
Climbing out the window and going down the fire escape, I walked towards the train station. No one had heard the shots over the thunder. No one would know what had happened until I was long gone. My walk became a run, my run a sprint, until I reached the train station. I was drenched with sweat and rain. Guilt was starting to drown my anger.  
  
"Ticket to where ever this train is going," I slammed money down on the counter and the man eyed me suspiciously, but handed over the ticket. The train was already moving I would have to jump on.  
  
Leaping I grabbed the railing and pulled myself onto the moving car. Opening the door to the passenger's cabin, I sat in the back of the car. A long time I sat numbly, not even knowing where I was going, but I sat. Images flashed over the pages of my mind. Crutchy, Sarah, Kloppman, Davie, Les, all of the times at the Lodging house; they flooded my mind until I was about to scream.  
  
I had killed Sarah, but she had killed me. For three years she had been killing me, ever since the first time I saw her. Killing me softly with her silence. Inside I was dead, drowned in the anger and guilt, I couldn't feel anything. Why had I ever gone to Santa Fe? The place where dreams come true? The only thing that had come true was my nightmare. My heart had always been broken, but now it was shattered.  
  
I hurt. I hurt everywhere. I hurt inside and outside in every way possible. Looking out the window as we hit a bridge, an idea came to mind. Standing from my seat, I opened the door to the outside.  
  
The loud sound of the train crossing the track wasn't heard as I blinding moved forward. One jump, that is all it took. I heard someone call to me to shut the door, but I wasn't listening. I took another step, in just a moment my pain would be over. Then I jumped. Closing my eyes I welcome the blackness that covered me. The wind whipped around me and I heard as scream. Was it mine? I didn't know I was too confused to know anything for sure. It was only then that the tears came. They came in pouring torrents as I out fell the rain, rushing downward to my death. 


	2. Epilogue

It had only been ten minutes since Jack had walked out of my door. I knew I shouldn't have let him go, it was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done. I knew the glint I saw in his eye when we told him about. The glint of cold steel that sparkled rarely, but it would sparkle.  
  
I've seen it only a few times before. Once when he had become a scab and I had yelled at him, he yelled back and I could have sworn if he had a gun he would have killed me. The other time was fighting the DeLancey brothers, he loved to fight. It was almost like Jack relished the pain of others, like it somehow redeemed him in some sick way.  
  
That was the reason that I left the apartment and walked down the hall in the direction I thought Jack had gone. Sometimes I felt like he couldn't hurt a fly, then other times I feel that he could destroy everyone in his path without a single feeling of guilt. That when I saw it, the bag that Jack had carried in and out of the apartment. It was lying discarded on the hall floor, open. It looked like someone had gone though it, was it Jack that had? Or someone else?  
  
Frowning, I continued to Sarah's. I didn't want to expect the worst, but I couldn't help but feel stupid for letting Jack know where Sarah was. He had been my best friend for over a year, he had helped me out of a lot of tough situations, but now I wasn't sure if I even knew him. No, I felt that I knew him well. If I didn't know him this well, I wouldn't have gone out after him, I would have just brushed it aside, but I do know him. That is something that nothing can change.  
  
Thunder rumbled through the sky warning me against the on-coming rain. My coat was in the apartment, had I even thought about bringing it? Probably not, I don't think I even thought about coming out after him, but something is pulling me, nagging me to follow. You know that feeling. The one that eats away at you until you do something, or wait until it is too late. Try as I might, I couldn't ignore this one, but i feel like someone is whispering in my ear, telling me that it is too late.  
  
Wind whips around my body as I move down the streets. Even the wind seems to be moving at a hurried pace, pushing me towards Sarah's new home. Raindrops started falling, slowly, surely, then at a more frantic pace. I was soaked by the time I made it up those stairs to Sarah's apartment. I wish I had never climbed those stairs, or knocked on that door. It was part way open, but not all the way, just slightly ajar, but when I pushed against it, I felt resistance. It was as if someone had moved a chair in front of the door to keep someone out. Maybe Jack?  
  
with a burst of strength I shoved the door open and froze. It wasn't a chair that had made my entrance so hard, it was my sister's body. Her clothes were stained a violent red, the walls splattered with browning dots. Two perfect circles punctured her breast, her eyes slightly open, but unseeing. The glaze of death had long since fallen over her eyes. Only one person I knew could have done this, Jack.  
  
An unseen blackness creeped inside of me right then, it was so strong it was almost tangible. My sister, dead, because of the man I had thought to be my best friend at one point. I thought that he had loved her, but obviously I was wrong. Torn, I didn't know if I should go out and look for the monster that had mauled my sister or go get help. Brotherly instinct won out and I ran down the stairs into the bakery to get someone that could do something, anything, to help. I didn't know what to do, I knew she was dead, all I could do was hope that I was wrong.  
  
Three days later I read the paper. An article had been printed about a body that had been dredged up from the river. Some man had jumped from a moving train the day of Sarah's death, I didn't have to read the description of him to know who it was. It was Jack. So they were both gone, justice had been served in a sick but equal way. The star crossed lovers would love no more, and I am left alone trying to sort out this whole mess. 


End file.
